slippery phlegm
slippery phlegm
by cerebella
jumping from a plane,
two symmetrical beings
knowing the vanity of being
clinically insane.
here they come now,
through the forest green,
lip-smacking, high and all
rapidly complying with their
shadows defiant crushed velvet.
moonwalking
left to right, cars
steadfastly racing with the sunset
opening their hoods in toothsome smiles
to absorb a family reunion,
a cat call from a
sailor two docks away,
distant helium squeals in the
supermarket,
soggy feathers, rain dance, back-to-back fucking,
rivers fuming rancid insolence.
beaten, weeping, putrid iris
a mule. understatement of
a battle cry yelped from
an angel’s first sin.
sordid ambition breaks
the barriers of a sensitive
nature. things like
this are not
as
they settle inside
the peaches for the trite.
head-static delays the erasure of
reality. anything
dating past a year ago is
analog which means
so many dreams are
no longer current. peeling
bubblegum off the carpet:
one distraction to pogo stick to
from a former fixation.
disarray obeys when emptiness is
sensed most. we’ve
maximized the
proximity of hope out of
proportion, once again. you and i, and illustrations
of baby blue birds
manifest, dissociate, than
scare the neighbours away.
you and i
symmetrical beings
darting back into an aeroplane
on rewind-
doors would say
‘run away’
to the little school buses
polishing their cavities with
honor-student bumper stickers,
while i proclaim
here’s bra-less today
with the violence glorifying a
purple gentleman’s club-
here’s today, baking a
plastic baggie in the microwave for my
husband in the housewife.
whoa. my picture=boing-oing-oing-oing-oing.
Toothsome. I love anywhere that word appears. It’s fresh carob at the health store good.
The magicians smoke dissipates and photographed raw meat drips free and becomes itself again. Cat litter and Syrup must be part of the summoning incantation. A virtual lava lamp of connectivity in that photograph.
wow, i love this.
the first sentence just completely reels me in, and the intensity never falters, and comes full circle perfectly.
you are an amazing writer.
thanks, lizzie. ♥
now, halifax, let’s talk about how much i love carob…it’s perfect. i just got peanut butter flavored carob cakes today at my store. i guess you can say it’s one of my top five recent go-to snackie-cakes.
So much emotionally-charged description. You are the Queen of Imagery. Loved this line: “beaten, weeping, putrid iris
a mule. understatement of a battle cry yelped from an angel’s first sin.” Erudion and street smarts galore. I always get a lot out of reading a cerebella poem–takes me to a place of ponderance–not necessarilly enjoyable cause there’s a lot of angst and suffering coming out of this and i’m not a sadist taking pleasure in other people’s misfortunes. But it’s something real with feeling and overflowing with being alive. Again, not a happy-happy joy-joy alive thruout but something more believable and gutsy–the pursuit thereof and the chronicling of ailment. The anecdote is merely the expression and sharing of individual trevail…and the community gained in relating some sort of operation manual in this thing we call ‘life’. Ah that it might have just a little less ‘strife’.
You’re a one-of-a-kind person, glad to know ya.
oops. i meant to post that here. my next thingie i’m working on, i’m on a road trip with jack keruoac. he’s a mix up of all the different crazy misfits i’ve met this year, and experiences i’ve had. it’s gonna be fuuuuuuuuun.